Listen To The Band

Earlier this month, I was perusing YouTube, looking for new songs to listen to.  During my search, I came across "Just Once In My Life," a 1965 hit from The Righteous Brothers:

It hit me like a ton of bricks. When the song ended, I sat there at my laptop, stunned by what I'd just heard.  I then listened to the song about five times in a row.

Later on, I got to wondering about what it was about "Just Once In My Life" that I had responded to so strongly.  Of course, the backing track was attention-grabbing, but that was typical of a Phil Spector production, and, after all, there are several Spector-produced songs that I don't care for.  I've always envied Bill Medley & Bobby Hatfield their singing voices, but I'd heard other Righteous Brothers songs, with equally great singing, that hadn't affected me as deeply.  I decided that it must have been the lyrics that had gotten to me.

I went to the all-knowing Google and looked up the lyrics to "Just Once In My Life."  This lyric jumped out at me:

There's a lot of things I want, a lot of things that I want to be
But, girl, I don't foresee a rags-to-riches story for me
But there's just one little thing I'd like to make come true
It's just one round I'd like to win
I've got to be a winner with you

Just once in my life, let me get what I want
Girl, don't let me down
Just once in my life, let me hold onto
The good thing I found; don't let me down

It was those words (written by Carole King & Gerry Coffin) that had struck me so hard.  In that handful of lines, King and Coffin eloquently say things that I've wanted to say to every girl I'd ever loved.  I've never said those things, though, because I haven't found a way to say them without sounding stupid.  I'm not sure there actually is an intelligent way to say those things in regular speech.  Music, however, lends a special power that allows the singer and writer to say things that can't be said any other way.

I think the quality of tapping into deep emotions, and how well the singer and songwriter wield it, is what separates a good song from a great one.  When one comes away from a great song, one comes away feeling the emotions that the song describes.  When Patsy Cline sings "Crazy," it's easy to feel the confusion and lingering affection that's there after a relationship ends.  When Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers play "American Dream Plan B," we feel driven to do anything we can to get what we want.  When Frank Sinatra sings "In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning," he puts so much effort into his singing that the aura of loneliness is palpable.  When the Bobby Fuller Four's "Let Her Dance" comes on the radio (which it does all too seldom), it can immediately get anyone listening feeling happy and hopeful for what lies ahead.

In the end, I think that sharing of emotion is what makes music great; it's what's made me a music nerd, anyway.  It's through music (and other art forms, too) that we can form bonds with one another.  When we listen to a great song, we know that there are others out there who have gone through the things that we're experiencing.  That knowledge that we aren't alone is a great thing; it strengthens us enough to get through the hard times and to enjoy the good times.  It also gives us the ability to be a help to others.  It's just one of many things that makes music great.